


A Map of Our Travels

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in Minas Tirith, Merry and Pippin learn each other's changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Map of Our Travels

"Ah, finally, a real bed, not a camp cot!" Merry cried out as he sank with delight into said bed; he and Pippin, and Frodo and Sam, had just that day been installed in a beautiful guesthouse in Minas Tirith, a house that Aragorn---King Elessar, Pippin reminded himself----had considerately ordered prepared for them by cutting down the legs of beds and chairs. The ceilings and steps were still too high, but Pippin was willing to forgive that, considering such features as this broad soft bed.

"A real bed," Pippin agreed with a saucy wink as he undressed, "and you in it." Merry winked back with a broad grin just before Pippin pulled his tunic over his head; then, when Pippin turned to reach for his nightshirt, Merry gasped. "Pippin, how did you get a scar _there_?"

When Pippin turned around again Merry's eyes were wide and glittering in the candlelight; Pippin dropped the nightshirt and got into bed without it. "Where, Merry?"

"On your back." Merry pulled Pippin close, tracing the sinuous whip-scar with his fingers. Pippin realized what it was, and laughed a tone too brightly. "Oh, that's just a memento from the uruk-hai. When I ran off to drop the brooch, remember?"

"Vaguely. My head was still a bit scrambled from the knock they'd given me." Merry smiled, but his eyes still brimmed; Pippin kissed one eye closed, and licked the tear that ran from it. "It doesn't hurt anymore, Merry," he murmured, and Merry nodded, but a tear ran from his other eye. "I know, Pippin," Merry replied, raising his hand to Pippin's cheek. "It's just that---"

"Merry." Pippin gasped, cutting him off, staring at Merry's arm. "Where did you get these scars?" Pippin took Merry's wrist in his hand to examine his arm, where several thin pale lines zigged and zagged like cracks in glass, from his elbow down to his sword-hand. Merry opened his eyes again, his smile gentle even though he retorted, "I have my souvenirs too. When my arm came back from being cold and pale these lines appeared. They must be an effect of striking the Witch-king; I'll have to ask Eowyn if she has any."

"This arm used to be, you never used to scar," Pippin choked. "But look at you now." He took a breath, forced a smile. "You're a ruddy map of our journey."

"And you're not, Pippin Took?" Merry smiled gratefully at Pippin's effortful cheer, bolstering it." I mean, I don't think I even know all your scars yet." His fingers trailed over a raised line along Pippin's ribs.

"I know I don't know all yours," Pippin replied, looping his leg through Merry's. "There wasn't nearly enough time at the Houses of Healing, and the healers were always about and piling more blankets on you."

"For some strange reason they didn't think tumbling in a sickbed was quite appropriate, did they?" Merry laughed at the memory; Pippin laughed to hear Merry. "Saved from the Black Breath, just to die from proddiness."

'My poor Merry, didn't you make any friends among the horsemen?" Pippin snuggled his head into the crook of Merry's neck. "I refuse to believe that your riding practice was really all on the pony."

The quivering silence that was Merry's reply made Pippin swallow around a chill lump in his throat. He opened his mouth, then shut it again and waited, holding still, until Merry let out a long sighing breath and pulled him into a tight embrace. "No, my Pip, not that sort of friend, not like, not like you. Besides," and Pippin could hear the smile reappearing as Merry's voice lightened, "my best friend there was the Lady Eowyn, and I could hardly pay her court without a footstool." Pippin laughed, at the image and with relief, and held Merry just as tightly for a moment.

Then he pushed back a bit to look at Merry, as an idea came to him. "In Rivendell, you always told me I should be studying the map," Pippin said slyly, and now Merry's eyes were gleaming but not from tears. "I'd like to learn it now."

"Only if I may study yours." Merry's fingers were nearly as strong as ever on Pippin's cheek as he kissed him. "For instance, what did you do to your brow, my Took?"

"I'm not sure, I think my helm cut me. At least it kept my brains in." Pippin raised his own sword-hand to Merry's brow, tracing the brown scar and ignoring the twinges when he stretched out his fingers. "I was so afraid yours would fall out."

Merry kissed Pippin's arm where it crossed his face, kissed his way up along it to the hand. "And this hand, Pippin, it looks like you stuck it between millstones." Merry's lips were warm and gentle, tracing the large dark scar at the base of Pippin's palm, the slight crookedness of the two longest fingers, and the throbbing in Pippin's hand lessened under the touch.

Pippin sighed happily, stroking his other hand up the furrow of Merry's spine, between the muscles of his shoulders. "Your back is clear and blank, at least," he said, expecting a chuckle, but instead Merry pulled him close again, nearly crushing-tight for a moment. "Yours isn't," Merry murmured against Pippin's jaw, his voice thick; Pippin felt a drop, then another, fall on his ear. "You have more scars than I do, my Pippin. It's not right."

Pippin nearly responded with a teasing "envious?" but thought again as Merry shook in his arms, and raised his hand back to Merry's brow. "No, Merry, I don't. Every scar I have, you also carry." Merry made a small confused noise, pulling his head back to look at Pippin with wet eyes, and Pippin gently wiped the tears from his cheeks and took a deep breath and continued. "The difference between us, dearest of hobbits, is that you blame yourself for my adventures, so you feel guilty, but I've always known I am too little to protect you, so all I feel is helpless."

Merry blinked. "Pippin?" he said, surprised, and Pippin trailed his wet fingers over Merry's mouth to shush him. "I never knew what it was like," Pippin went on, concentrating on Merry's handsome, living, grey-eyed face before his so he would not weep, "to take care of me, what it must have been like to worry after me, until I held you and thought you were dying, until I saw you in that bed so pale and small and cold."

"Pippin." Merry kissed Pippin's fingers before moving his hand so he might speak. "Pippin, I never wanted you to know."

"I know, Merry." Pippin kissed Merry's cheekbone. "I've learned a great deal since we set out from Crickhollow. We all have, haven't we? And we have all changed, the world is changed, and I want to learn your changes, Merry, now that we have time and a soft bed and nothing to do in the morning but sleep and eat and smoke and bother Gandalf and Frodo and Sam."

Finally, finally Merry's grey eyes lightened, catching Pippin's sparkle. "Pip, my Pip," he said with love, and kissed Pippin, warm and sweet and tinged with salt. "My unquenchable Pippin. You're alive, you're here."

"Who were you expecting, Lotho Pimple?" Merry laughed at that, and Pippin laughed to hear him laugh, and kissed him; Merry rolled them over so Pippin was atop him, twining fingers in his hair as the kiss shaded up into living heat, and all they needed to know at that moment lay in their deep kiss.

 

Floating down again, Pippin sucked in a deep draught of air, and winced at the pain in his ribs, and coughed; Merry felt the wince, lying entangled as they were, and dropped a kiss to his curls. "Pip, love?"

"I'm all right." The last word shaded into a yawn; Merry chuckled and gently pushed Pippin's head back down to his shoulder. "I'll just have to remember not to squeeze you too hard," Merry replied ruefully, and Pippin kissed the skin beneath his head, and yawned again. "You won't hurt me, Merry," he whispered, boneless with sated sleepiness. "You know me."

"I do, my Pip," Merry whispered, and Pippin smiled as he sank into sleep.


End file.
